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It has been a long time since Capitano has known warmth.
He no longer remembers what it feels like to walk beneath the warm rays of the dawn as his skin is caressed by light. He no longer remembers what it feels like to wake up to the soft tinkling beams of the daylight sun as it rises to gently kiss against the tops of his cheekbones.
His skin no longer knows touch, and his eyes no longer able to witness the world around him the way it once did, though Capitano knows, that his heart however, has never felt anything quite like this and Capitano knows, regardless of what he has been cursed to forget, and what he is blessed to remember, that the sun has never once shined as brightly as the woman before him.
And in all his years of trudging against the nature of creation, against the will of his own long-rotting body, never has he once felt the need to feel that warmth.
Never has he once. Never, until now.
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It was first sparked by their infamous heated confrontation, where they had both eventually spoken of their similar pain. An unforgettable wound that would never dull. A haunting regret that looms over them till today, 500 years today, and 500 years more. And so a truce was made, an understanding that they both had Natlan’s security at the forefront of their minds. Things had then seemingly started to change. Much to his surprise, she had begun to open up to him. Slowly, she had unfurled her thoughts, divulging her anger at the constant threats and calamities.
“All I want is a peaceful future”, she had whispered into the air one night, voice soddened with a fearful uncertainty that he was all the most familiar with. Capitano had watched as her slender fingers drummed against the table, a rare glimpse of anxiety that most would miss. Capitano, however, who was naturally already quite observant, found himself more attentive than usual when in the presence of Mavuika.
Just as he was about to attempt to ease her, he noticed her immediate change in demeanour. He instead was faced with a smokescreen; her mask slotted back in place in the twinkling of an eye, any traces of apprehension gone. Instead, in place was the unmatched ever-brave Pyro Archon, the pinnacle of strength. She had laughed it off, confidence seeping through once more, as if her prior words were not uttered, merely a phantom. She had then excused herself, claiming fatigue and the duties of the day catching up to her.
“I'll have to rest up if I want to face you in our promised spar soon, Captain, don't wanna be losing to the Fatui out of all things,” she joked, and with that, she had bid him goodnight and left, the room dimming instantly.
It was then, as Capitano gazed at the spot where Mavuika had stood, that he realized. Though their ideals might at times differ, their understanding, desperation, and fear, on the other hand, were all the same. And just as he had lost his humanity, Mavuika, through her willingness to relinquish her emotions, through her relentless pursuit, through perfecting the art of sacrifice, had long lost hers as well.
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As their meetings gradually increased, so did his ease. He found himself sharing anecdotes of his position as a Harbinger. He chooses to tread carefully on his prior time in Natlan, however, never once mentioning his name, his real name, or his position as the Sentinel Knight. He had crossed paths with Mavuika a few times in the past, albiet brief; they were technically acquainted. He had found her beautiful even back then, but he does not dwell on it. He tells himself it is to protect his identity, to not give her that leverage, for there was always a chance they could find themselves on opposite sides once more. It was definitely not because there was a fear that she might not remember him.
“Her Majesty is politically savvy in her own way, though sometimes that comes with force. The Fae, for one, have suffered under her reign. In turn, however, it has brought forth discipline and loyalty to the nation. When the day of her rebellion rises, her followers will surely march by her side.”
“Well, it sure sounds like she’s got everything figured out, even if her methods are... severe. Regardless of our friction and my personal disagreements, I can recognise a thriving nation, and that is always accompanied by a strong, capable leader, of course. To be honest, I barely know the Seven at all. I’ve always wanted to reach out, but with looming threats and constant battles, I’ve never exactly found the time...” or energy left unspoken.
She looks towards him, a sudden playful glint in the orange embers of her eyes. “Say, Captain.. once this chapter of Natlan’s history is over, would you join me in leading Natlan and strengthening our ties? I'm sure having the number one Harbinger on my side will come with its political perks.”
She feels Capitano freeze at her words as she lets out a laugh. “I'm only kidding, of course, I know loyalties are important to you, oh so chivalrous captain.”
And if the thought of betraying Her Majesty crosses through his mind, he chooses to bury it.
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Though their discussions did not simply start and stop at diplomacy. Eventually, their topics of conversation turn more relaxed and personal, exchanging stories and naturally building on each other, completely at ease and natural.
“I am... not the biggest fan of Banquets and dinners, socialising is not exactly my strongest asset, though the Jester deems it important for us all to be there, to show a united front. I suppose I understand his sentiments. Thankfully, though, Tartaglia does most of the talking. He’s young, but charismatic, a family full of little siblings, perhaps that is where his constant exuberance comes from.”
“Oh yes! You naturally learn how to entertain when you have younger siblings. Hine, for one, was a real handful. I had to run around constantly finding things to do with her; swimming, gliding, hide and seek... You name it! I had even taught her how to rock climb, which is my personal favourite hobby, actually. Thankfully, both my parents and I enjoyed adventures as much as she did... perhaps it runs in our blood. Oh, did I ever mention our family’s Saurian companions? The cutest little Baby Yumkasaur... we had two!”
Their promised spar had come eventually, with Mavuika jokingly stating that he was probably the only punching bag out there that would not immediately explode upon her attacks. It is just as exhilarating as expected, her claymore clashing in perfect sync against his sword.
She stumbles forward, alerting him as he immediately throws his weapon aside to instead catch her waist, wrapping his arm around. Capitano was a chivalrous man; he was not one to thrive on libertines, but at that moment, he could not even lie to say it was simply instinct. Realistically, he knows he did not have to steady her, that with her core strength, she can easily steady herself and avoid the fall, and continue their fight as if nothing had happened , but he does it anyway.
And she, for all her might and strength, lets him.
They are not at equal strength, he thinks to himself, as she seems to have broken him.
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Friendly spars had turned into joining her for meals. Though he himself does not eat in front of her, for obvious reasons, he joins her nonetheless, not wanting to waste an opportunity to be in her light. Meals had turned into drinks, and drinks into feelings he had once believed to be no longer capable of, sparking within his cursed heart, once more.
And that is how Capitano finds himself today, his heavy footsteps trailing behind her like a moth drawn to a flame, led by the bright, fiery embers of her hair as she speaks on her temporary aid and restoration plans. She leads them both into the Speaker’s Chamber, though Capitano admittedly barely pays attention to her words. Instead, his eyes trail on the sway of her hips and trim waist, completely entranced by her movements. Possessed by a sudden desire, hypnotised by a candle's flame, he was unable to concentrate on anything that was not the light before him. And slowly, he lifts his hand to catch a lock of her hair, letting it intwine between his fingers.
It was a mere ghost of a caress, his nerves unresponsive, dead to any form of touch and feeling. Capitano has long forsaken the heavens, but suddenly, he feels the need to pray, not as the Captain, but as Thrain, who for centuries has only known frost bites and stings. And so Thrain prays. He prays to be blessed, just once, to be able to feel her. To reach towards her and feel her warmth against his broken skin. To be able to feel the sparks where their skin meets, matching the roaring blaze within his contrast against his rotten flesh.
Mavuika pauses in her step and stops speaking, turning to look back at him. The captain fails to realise, instead, his blue eyes, though obscured by his mask, is cleary fixed on the smooth locks. “Cap?” Mavuika calls out, attempting to snap him out of his daze, though it proves of no use. She instead takes a step, her hair shifting, which finally gains Capitano’s attention. Immediately, as though burnt, he drops it.
“Mavuika, I... My apologies, I don't... I ju—”
“Hey, it’s okay!” She interrupts him, reaching forward to grab his palm, noticing his panic. “These are friendly flames, no burns here, you won't feel a thing,” she laughs, attempting to stop his spiralling. Unbeknownst to Mavuika, however, it does not ease Capitano; instead, it does the exact opposite. Not only does the weight of her words splash down on him like ice-cold water, extinguishing any form of a growing spark, but the soft grip on his hand serves as a reminder of the difference between them. A cruel reminder of his state of being, he remains in the cold, remains in the dark, remains frozen, undeserving of her flame. Life is born from warmth, while he rots, a cold, cursed corpse.
He gives another brisk apology before turning and walking out, ignoring Mavuika’s desperate calls for him. As he makes it back to his lodging, Capitano, a man of resilience, who has faced threats head-on, who has led an army, who was once a commander, the strongest of all Harbingers, does something he has never done before. He chooses to run away.
News of the Captain's departure for Snezhnaya circulates the next morning.
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If Capitano believed simply leaving Natlan would stop his musings on Mavuika, he has never been more wrong. It is as if being forcefully separated from her light makes him long for it more, aimlessly seeking out her warmth, the frost bitten stiffing atmosphere of Snezhnaya more prominent than ever. As he arrives, he is immediately thrust into an audience with the Tsaritsa, seemingly eager to hear of his progress.
“State your report.”
Sharp and precise words slice through the chilly air of the icy throne room of the Zapolyarny Palace. There, in the middle of the glass-like frosted floors, stands a towering, lofty throne. And on said throne sits a lithe woman, an expressionless ice statue. Her bright white floor-length fitting dress is bunched across as her legs are crossed on top of each other. She has her hands firmly on either side of the throne, not gripping, but a sense of rigidity nonetheless. With such a youthful face, such a demeanour on anyone else would almost come off as juvenile and immature, but her sharp, clear eyes are not without confidence.
How ironic it is that before Capitano sits winter personified, and yet, his mind is only filled with images of warm summer sunshine. How comical it is that here he stands as the first of the Fatui Harbingers, and yet someone of his position has fallen victim to daydreams of a woman he is not deserving of.
“The situation in Natlan is unstable. Abyss attacks are slowly intensifying, and many lives have been lost as a result. The invasions are nationwide; no area can confidently be marked as safe. Threats may arise any day, and civilians are advised to be prepared.”
“And what of the Pyro Gnosis?” — she questions, straight to business as always.
“It is still in the possession of their Archon. I am yet to obtain it”. He answers honestly.
“Though you are in contact with Haborym”. At this, he stifles, for it is not a query, but a statement. Her eyes narrow slightly, eyes glazed with piercing chill, as if it was not already cold enough to begin with. Capitano has known her long enough not to feel nervous in her presence; in fact, none of her harbinger truly are, for she has offered a home to them, providing them with the necessary means to continue forth with their individual wants and desires. That being said, however, it would be foolish to entirely let your guard down. She “loves” her harbingers, so to say, for they act as an extension of her, but she is not above berating where necessary.
Capitano remains silent as he attempts to carefully choose his next words when she speaks once more.
“See to it that you complete your mission. I expect you to return to Natlan within the week, though for now, you may rest,” she states. Capitano does not stay to contemplate, simply expressing his agreement and gratitude. He offers her a deep bow before turning to walk away. If he were given an easy way out, he would take it, not truly wishing to speak of Mavuika and his looming mission further. He suspects, though, that the Tsaritsa knows exactly where his heart and duty currently lie. He takes long strides towards the thick double doors of the throne room, intending to make a swift exit, when he is suddenly stopped in his tracks by her next words.
“Thrain,” she calls out. It is rare for her to use their personal names, for in Snezhnaya, the old worlds have burnt away. He turns around to look at her, not sure of what to expect, when he is faced with her ever-sharp eyes and even sharper mind. “As you know, my Harbingers are always encouraged to pursue the meaning of their existence. Their reason. Do you believe you have come closer to yours?” she questions. Columbina had once, in one of Sandrone’s tea parties he had been kindly invited to, described Her Majesty as “crystal clear in some ways but profoundly unfathomable in others.”
Back then, Capitano had understood exactly what she meant, but right now, as he looks back at the Tsaritsa, knowing glint in her eyes, he seems to finally understand what power had hurt her all those years ago.
“Love is a cruel thing, is it not?” she adds, letting out a dull laugh, for who else to be as acquainted on the subject as the Archon of Love herself.
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Mavuika was frankly not one to confide in others, preferring to shoulder the weight of her burdens alone. She had instead chosen to armour her heart with the unwavering devotion, pride, and duty of what it means to be the Kiongozi, what it means to be the God of War. She sought comfort and clarity in the memories she holds on to, perhaps understanding that it was only herself who could construct the strength that she needed to ensure the safety of her home.
Long ago, she had learnt that sacrifice was something that was not to be decided or pondered upon, but simply required, whether one liked it or not. It was not a matter of choice, but of need. And with a will as bright as the sun, a plan was set out — And so she had watched. Watched as her precious memories, cherished, irreplaceable items, all she truly had left, were burnt away in the Sacred Flame. Memories of Hine, her parents... it was all no longer important; she had ceased to be important.
That being said, it was not as if she did not have any personal relationships. The Pyro Archon was known to be on friendly terms with them, most, if not all of Natlan, forming warm connections with many — charming her way into unreasonable requests from Xilonen, nights spent drunk in the Company of Citlali, training sessions with Iansan. The ease that came with Capitano, however, was one of uncharted territory.
Perhaps it was the fact that he was one who could offer her solicitude in ways others could not, or perhaps it was a mere superficial aspect, for Mavuika has always been one to find attractiveness in shows of physical strength. Truthfully, she does not wish to ponder over it, recognising that, if left to brew, it would only bring complications to her own mind. She has come too far, and too close to let this tiny spark grow any further than it already is, and so, as she had always done, she had ignored her own heart in favour of sacrifice.
It was easier said than done, of course. When Mavuika was made aware that Capitano had returned to Snezhnaya, she made no outward remark, schooling her face to a calm composure as she always had when faced with challenging news. It was Chasca who brought her the news, offhandedly mentioning hearing talks from his subordinates that had been stationed to aid the Flower-Feather Clan. It was only after noticing Chasca’s knowing look that she decided perhaps it was best to just give a curt comment, hoping it would be sufficient.
“Ah, yes, well, he is still a Harbinger after all, perhaps his other duties were calling. No matter, we here are more than enough to navigate our situation.”
“Forgive me for overstepping Archon, but... were you not aware?”
“It’s not like he reports to me. This is only a temporary truce, remember? Why would he need to let me know of his every wearabout” Mavuika responds, tone still calm, faking nonchalance.
“It’s just, I had always assumed you two were much closer than that, almost like...” Chasca trails off, when her expression suddenly shifts to one of panic. “Oh no, forget I said that, let's... discuss matters of the clan instead.” At that, Mavuika perks up, grateful for the pivot, finally a topic she is familiar with.
Much like how she found out about the Captain’s departure from someone else, she learns of his return in a similar manner, too.
“Oh yeah, the Captain has returned!” she overhears Mualani’s chipper tone as she talks to Kinich. “I saw him by the docks this morning. Apparently, he's brought more troops with him.” It is here that Mavuika allows a small flicker of annoyance to surge within her.
Why does everyone know where this man is except me?
“Oh, Pyro Archon, we were just about to come look for you. Will you take a look at these plans, please?” And with that, she returns to her regular scheduled program.
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It was not long before they finally faced each other, though not alone. The Traveler, Paimon, and Xilonen were there, updating them on their journey towards the Traveler and their Ancient Name.
In no way avoiding Capitano, Mavuika chooses to bring Xilonen aside, wishing to discuss with her new plans of constructing a vehicle. Flamestrider, she had already even given it a name in her head, when suddenly, the ever distinct high-pitched sound of the Traveler's companion reached her ears.
“Hey, Captain! How come you never got an Ancient Name?” asks Paimon
“Do you forget that I was not actually born in this land?”
“I mean, Paimon knows you’re from Khaenri'ah and all, but based on what you’ve told us, you sound more than deserving. Ummm.. maybe it’s the curse! Maybe the ley lines no longer recognise you, especially with how you look now.”
How you look now? Had.... had Capitano shown them how he looked? Taken off that mask in front of them? Why has Mavuika never been privy to it, too? Were they not as close as she thought? Was she simply deluding herself into thinking she had finally met someone who had even a semblance of an understanding of the loneliness she had fe—
“Mavuika,” Capitano calls out to her, snapping her out of her thoughts. It is then that she takes a brief look around her office, realising the Traveler and Paimon had left. Xilonen glances between them before letting out a sigh. “Let’s discuss this tomorrow, Mavuika. I’m beat, and a nap is seriously calling out to me.”
And with that, it was only two of them left in her office. Capitano nervously clears his throat before addressing her once more.
“Are you well... Mavuika?”
“Fine. As always. And you?” She answers, polite and cordial.
“Ahh, yes, I am as well.” He clears his throat once more. “Well, I shall leave you to your matters; it seems to be getting late.”
At that, she finally snaps. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
“What do you mean?” he responds, feigning ignorance.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
No, Capitano thinks to himself. I am not ready for this conversation. “Mavuika... I do not think—”
“No,” she asserts, mirroring his earlier inner words. “Let me tell you what I think instead.”
“I think that for as long as I can remember, I have never been allowed anything dear to me, that I have done nothing but simply sacrifice. Everything from cherished possessions — anything to remember my family left behind, to even just menial wants. Over and over again have I scrubbed my feelings clean. And make no mistake, I do not regret it, my vow to illuminate this land will stand even if it dulls my own flame in return, but Captain, I just...” she chokes, “I do not remember the last time I have yearned for something, I don't think I ever even have... not until now.”
Capitano is stunned to say the least, not expecting his feelings to be mutual. He stops himself from feeling any sparks of happiness from forming, instead quickly reminding himself as to why this will not , why it can not, work.
“This is not what you truly want, Mavuika.” He states, purposely leaving his voice as cold as possible, in hopes of deterring her. It has the opposite effect, however, as Mavuika screams back, determined as always.
“And how the hell do you know what I want?!”
“Just look at me.” He cries, ripping his mask off. He keeps his eyes closed, not ready to see her reaction to what he can only describe as a ghastly sight.
He takes a shaky breath, “I only serve as a reminder of a frozen, desolate past, but you, you are the promise of a bright, fighting future. We have never truly been equals, Mavuika... not in strength, not in leadership... You are a burning star, brave in ways I am not, in ways I never have been... you are what keeps this land spinning, a true sun to this world, ” He holds his breath, waiting for her exclamation of disgust, for her to leave, for anything, knowing that he is bound to be alone once more. At least, he thinks to himself, he had time with her at all, vowing to keep it held taut against his heart.
Suddenly, he feels a ghost of a touch against his cheek. Capitano’s eyes snap open, brilliant blue eyes locking with hers, frantically searching for an answer as to what was going on.
“Thrain...” she whispers.
His breath hitches, — “Wh.. what?” he manages to let out.
“Thrain,” she says again, louder this time. She lifts her other hand up, sandwiching his face between her palms. “The Sentinel Knight... I know you... hah.. I've always known you”
“You... remember me?” he asks, disbelief evident in his tone.
She squishes his cheeks, his lips forming into a pout. She lets out a soft laugh at the sight. Who knew Capitano could look cute?
“Of course I do!” she exclaims excitedly. The Sentinel Knight has always been quite famous ya know, especially back then. The brave Khaenri'ahn soldier who offered us his aid... fighting alongside the Natlanese. Not to mention, you’ve always been quite handsome, not exactly the easiest face to forget,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Mavuika. I look like a corpse.”
“A Handsome corpse!”
He lets out a snort at that. Out of every single possible reaction she could have given, this was one that definitely did not even cross his mind.
“Wait, did you just laugh? You never laugh.”
“Of course I laugh.”
“Well, you’ve never laughed with me, so how was I supposed to know! Maybe it’s only with other people you laugh with,” she thinks back to her earlier inner dilemma of hearing that the Traveler had seen Thrain’s face before, “Maybe with people like the Traveler,” she mutters.
“Are you... Jealous?” he questions in disbelief. “No!” She exclaims, defensive, “Not at all. No way.”
They were both seeing new sides to each other tonight, and Capitano, for one, was thoroughly enjoying it. “I am sure, you are aware, that you have nothing to be jealous of.” he takes a breath, voice growing impossibly soft, before reaching forward, to let his arms wrap around her waist, briging her closer and resting their foreheads againts each other, before finally declaring what has been on the back of his mind for months, “For it is only you that I love, my only sunshine.”
Let us allow this moment of selfishness, away from the duties of the world, let us both feel human once more. Together, our love is the sun that will never set.
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Your Majesty,
When I was last in your audience, you had questioned if I had finally found my purpose. Truthfully, even if back then I had felt like I had, I did not see a reason as to why I should pursue it. Love, in that moment, felt like nothing but a mere burden. Not on me, for I would wish to go through this pain a thousand times more if it meant I knew nothing, but to her.. to whom my heart was attached. Perhaps through my long anguish, I had forgotten what it means to be human, and at my center, it has always been love, that the reason is love, and it is the only reason I ever need.
With that, I would like to formally request to be relieved from my mission of retrieving the Gnosis.
I will not pretend to understand what you have been through, but I believe, in this moment, that I understand your choices and actions more than ever. I would like to sincerely thank you for providing a home not only for me, but for us all. If not for your benevolence, I would have never finally found daylight. Perhaps it is not my place to speak on this matter, but with time, I hope you find it in your heart to learn to love once more, for I believe, your majesty, that you still have more to give, and much more to receive.
Il Capitano.